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The Light's Brand
A forgotten memory of Terras' trial. Exarch Terras had narrowed the list of names down to three. Her mother’s dry designation for this Legion world, L-947, lacked the necessary qualities to inspire her soldiers and envy her detractors. She pushed aside a heavy braid of entangled vines and stepped beneath the canopy that sheltered the Sha’nor’s forward camp. Soldiers, both of her order and the Hand of Argus, worked in unison with a slew of krokul laborers to snap prefabricated draenei shelters in place. Nobuna stood opposite Draeghar, barking about her strength compared to his as Terras often saw her boast. Together they heaved a half-ton fortification. That sleek white metal hull would make up a part of the camp’s outer wall stood out in the jungle. It took nearly a dozen of Papo’s crew to dredge one of those walls through mud and into place, and they watched with quiet awe as the two soldiers went about their task purely for the sport of it. Others too set about their duties. Shael’anu and Janalia, Terras’ two Harbingers, oversaw the others. Hanaan, Eriaandi, Spensaar, Yllaine, and dozens more in the Carrius above where her mother remained. Not three months ago had a portal opened to that other Draenor. But that world’s troubles were for others to handle. The Exarch’s glory awaited her here in the stars. Terras met eyes with a broken and remembered the sight of his corpse, innards wrapped around the very ballista he worked to construct now. Her stomach lurched and she fell to the ground. It was as soft as slick as she remembered. “Do not turn away.” The naaru commanded. Terras steadied herself with a breath and rose at once. A voice came from behind and asked, “Have you made your decision, Exarch?” Terras turned to behold Exarch Braan. His kind features and stout frame belied the valor she had seen from the Hand’s Exarch both on Azeroth and here in the Great Dark Beyond. After so many missions together, she had begun to see him less as a rival and more like a father. There were only so many Argus-aged draenei, and few had the patience to advise and temper an upjumped Exarch such as herself. “I’m leaning towards Mantis. Constricta seems a little too direct…” She brushed the back of her armored fingers along a dangling cord of brush and leaves. “I was partial to The Leg. Ah ha ha.” Exarch Braan held his stomach as he strode to stand beside her, “Your crusade began at the Shards and continued at the Step, so we’d have just a few more body parts to go.” He laughed again, though this time Terras couldn’t help but smile at his good nature. “I fear Argus waits further than just a few worlds away. For each we take, we expose ourselves to a dozen others on our flanks.” She said. To that, Exarch Braan answered with a stern hum, “A troublesome quandary. If only Velen’s army was more than mere prophecy. We would no doubt ride their starry wake straight to the heart of darkness.” “The Army of the Light is no myth, Exarch.” Terras said, her fangs showing. “I am the Light’s chosen. And our soldiers are its Army.” Certainty and fire shone in her eyes as nervous skepticism showed in Braan’s. “I see.” The naaru intoned its disappointment. The creature reached into Terras’ heart to test and soothe, but found a pit without a bottom where the Exarch’s pride had been. “You believed Stormrage’s destiny was your own.” A pause, one that offered Terras a chance to answer. She did not. “But this is not your wound.” The naaru continued. “Show me.” The mission to L-947 was not so different than the ones that had come before. Had Terras more patience or another dissenting opinion, the Carrius might have passed over this world for another. But the limited successes of the Sha’nor had brought its Exarch praise, glory, and the need for more. The demons of this world were cut off from the Legion proper. Scattered in camps and ripe for reaving by the Light’s blade. The Exarch and her officers stood before a holographic display of their surroundings a night later when the call came forth. A Legion ambush. Felhunters and mo’arg armed with simple weaponry. Terras held Sha’nash high and carved their clumsy line as she had before. Her soldiers gave a cheer when the demons broke ranks. Terras ordered them to pursue. Terras watched herself wind through that dense jungle with a pounding sprint. The hunger on her face. “Was I a child then?” She thought, remembering how Shattrath had aged her. She had been given perspective, but not the wisdom of a man like Exarch Braan. She watched him falter in the chase and thought to look away were it not for the naaru hovering above. Exarch Terras heard an explosion, and then a scream. She skidded to a stop in the dense underbrush and spun around. One of the Hand vindicators lay reeling, holding a wound beneath his eye–no, from his eye. Blood poured down his face and painted the ground between his fingers blue. Janalia called to her, “Exarch! The ground ahead is trapped. Order a retreat.” “And let them escape?!” Terras seethed at her Harbinger. But before she could give or belay that order, the demons were upon them. Dozens of mo’arg, none taller than Terras but each armed with jagged hooks and blades, threw themselves down the hillside and slammed into their flank. Even the injured Hand dispatched the ones that came upon him with ease. But those demons had not intended to cut the draenei down. They had intended to keep them in place long enough for the second line to advance. Ten, maybe fifteen mo’arg pairs stepped forward. In those teams of two, one carried a rusted metal container rumbling with heat and spewing fumes. The other held what looked like a thin hose that amused Terras at first. Crude weapons were a mo’arg specialty. The Sha’nor had dispatched them before and no doubt would again, she thought. White hot gouts poured across her lines. She watched Exarch Braan’s face turn from shock, to pain, to ash. Smoke choked her eyes and lungs, and she stumbled backwards over a vine. As she tried to rise, something beside her head exploded and left her deaf and blind. She hadn’t known it at the time, but she screamed a sound that shook her soldiers. They looked for a Harbinger’s command. Shanael’anu gave it as Janalia attended to her Exarch. Retreat. Had Terras obeyed Martul’s command to climb aboard their Carrius and return to the Rise, she knew there was little chance she would ever return to the Great Dark. “And that is why you spent the lives of your soldiers. You feared the end of the Light’s crusade.” The naaru rotated rapidly, and the jungle world around them dissolved. It did not force her to observe each individual death of her soldiers and crew over those months, but instead showed their faces in her mind’s eye. Draeghar. Papo. Kotsu. How would she face their loved ones? Hetaera, or Nona? But the naaru did not chide her for the mistake that had cost her everything. Her army. Her soldiers. Her pride. Her title. The naaru welcomed it. “You conquered that world. With that came the right to name it. What did you decide on, Terras?” The question left a foul taste in her mouth and she spat her answer, “Hell.” The naaru merely twinkled in response. “Many do the Light’s justice, and many more speak the importance of it. But few truly serve the Light as you have, Terras. You have not fallen from the Light’s favor, child. You lowered yourself to better know its glory. And now, you shall have it.” Terras screamed, thrusting the vision aside. The Vindicaar materialized around her and she tried to rise. At once, cords of Light bound her wrists and ankles and held her naked body to the ground. Terras turned her head to see another unforged draenei dead without a wound on his body. He had been weaker, the naaru told her. But she was strong. Strong enough to endure. And endure she did, held low as the naaru gave her the gift of its brand. Her blue skin vaporized, flecking off like bits of a boiled eggshell to reveal alabaster flesh damp with sweat. Her hair, once cobalt, flashed gold. And her eyes, forced shut as she underwent the transformation, bled a brilliant yellow light out of the corners. The naaru spoke at last, warping Terras' memory of the ordeal as it did. “You have given everything. Now, the healing can begin.” Category:Stories Category:Events Category:Draenei